Shut Up
by shigureisasexybeast
Summary: Oliver gives up after a particularly stressful Quidditch practice. Slash.


If Oliver Wood hadn't been quite sure that it was impossible, he would have said that the syltherins had charmed the weather to make the sporadic rain start up again only on the days when he had claimed the pitch. And although it had been wet and muddy and altogether impossible to see anything beyond your own hands losing their grasp on the dripping end of your broom every now and then, they needed another victory and that was that. But as good as his intentions had been at first, by the time the team trudged back into the locker rooms, bedraggled, grumbling and altogether disheartened it became clear that things were not going to be on the bright side in their upcoming match.

Yanking his robes over his head in an almost angry movement, Oliver winced slightly as the movement pulled at his shoulder (really, had it been 'maim Oliver' day to George again?) and dropped them in a sodden, muddy heap in front of his locker, too drained to do anything more with them as he turned to trudge slowly in the direction of the showers, until,

"Oliver."

He suppressed a groan.

"What now?"

George emerged from the showers, shaking his damp hair out of his face as he wrapped a towel loosely around his waist before beckoning Oliver over with one hand. Raising an eyebrow slightly, he moved over to where the other boy was now rummaging around in his locker for something and slumped down on the bench facing away from him. George turned back as he sat down, taking a breath as if to speak but instead his eyes widened slightly as a small grimace formed at the corners of his mouth.

"What happened to your shoulder, mate? You end up at the wrong end of a dragon attack or something?"

It was all Oliver could do not to roll his eyes and wave off the question. "No, I was hit by a bludger actually. Numerous times."

"The same bludger?"

"What? I don't know! What does it matter-"

George stepped up on the bench and jumped down to the other side, nudging Oliver's arm slightly as he slid down to sit beside him, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Kidding, mate. But that does look pretty bad, maybe you should have it looked at-"

"I'm fine." Oliver's response was automatic, his voice flat and hard. George raised a skeptical eyebrow at him, but strangely he didn't press the issue any further.

The two sat in silence for a moment, listening to the rain pounding rhythmically against the castle walls and ancient trees creaking softly in the wind.

"I'm a failure, aren't I?"

George looked slightly started as he glanced over at the other boy. Oliver sat in a hunched position, favoring his injured shoulder, staring straight ahead with a dim, almost lost look in his eyes. Geez, he knew the guy was into quidditch, but to beat yourself up so much before they'd even had the match? He wouldn't be the first to admit that they're chances weren't good, but there was no need to let Oliver know that.

" Of course you are. I just can't stand to look at you for fear of being caught into the failure that seems to radiate from you like a disease-" A small grin played across George's face as he opened his mouth to continue, but Oliver cut him off.

"Will you _shut up_?"

And as it became increasingly obvious that redhead's first intention was to do anything but, Oliver closed the distance between them and did it for him.

At first George froze, his eyes widening as it became clear to him that it wasn't just quidditch the captain had been referring to, but Oliver scooted closer, deepening the kiss as he reached up to cup the back of his neck with one hand and slowly, he began to respond. Wrapping an arm around Oliver's waist (still mindful of his shoulder) he ran his tongue over the other's bottom lip, smirking into the kiss as he felt a small shiver run down Oliver's back.

It was George who pulled away first, blinking dazedly and slightly out of breath.

"Er…" The brunette seemed just as surprised by what he'd done as he was, moving to turn away again as he brushed a stray lock of hair out of his face. And at that George seemed to snap back into action,

"Well, you may be a failure, but I can definitely vouch for the fact that you are an _amazing_ snog."

Oliver blinked at him.

"And might I suggest that you hit the showers before we continue this? As lovely and charming as you are-"

Oliver stood, cuffing him lightly in the back of the head as he rolled his eyes, turning to head back towards his original destination.

"Just shut up for a moment, will you?"


End file.
